


The Ghost and the Girl with Greyscale

by Sookiestark



Series: Three Baratheon Ghost Stories for Christmas [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dragonstone, Gen, Ghosts, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Winter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-09-24 20:18:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17107439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sookiestark/pseuds/Sookiestark
Summary: Shireen Baratheon is locked away, quarantined, and sick with greyscale. Only a toddler, she is sad, confused and alone. An unlikely heroine saves her.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> When I started writing this series, the second and third story came very easily. This was the toughest. However, I like thinking that Rhaenyra gets her daughter for a brief time and Shireen gets a mother who can love her and take care of her. So-- it's going to be kinda fluffy and sweet but I blame it on Christmas time.

It was a stormy summer, sweltering and a thick mist hung over the island when tragedy struck Dragonstone. Summer had already been several years long and it was seen as a good portent, that Robert’s reign was righteous and the Seven favored him. Lord Stannis had recently arrived at Dragonstone because he had received reports that Dragonmount was showing more activity and he had he had begun to wonder if he should relocate his family.

 

When he had arrived, Lord Stannis had received more bad news. His wife, Lady Selyse had miscarried again. This time she was well into her fourth month. Stannis had felt that Dragonstone was a dark and haunted place and wondered if he should move his small daughter and wife to King’s Landing where there was sun and not so much darkness. Of course, King’s Landing was another kind of darkness. 

When Maester Cressen told him the news of his only living child coming down with the cursed grey spot, Stannis knew assuredly that his bad luck was due to his brother sending him here rather than giving him Storm’s End. However his feelings about this place, Stannis was a good lord. He immediately sent his daughter to the East Tower, an abandoned place where once the royal family had dwelled, where she would be quarantined. He had all the things she had touched burned in the yard and the castle scrubbed from top to bottom. Lord Stannis did not want anyone else to be infected

The household staff had long conjectured why Lord Baratheon had not moved his family into the traditional apartments for the Prince of Dragonstone. Some said it was he could not bear to see the personal items of the Targaryen family, that he helped overthrow. Some said when he had come upon the royal nursery and seen the toys and personal items of the murdered Prince Aegon and Princess Rhaenys, he had left the East Tower and moved his family to the more modest apartments that had been used for the stewards of Dragonstone. Whatever the reasons, Lord Stannis and his family never went to those rooms and that part of the keep was unused and abandoned.

 

The household staff was like any staff of any keep or castle in the Seven Kingdoms. They had been working with each other for years, sometimes decades. Some of them had families that served Dragonstone for generations. The Household staff at Dragonstone talked. They talked amongst each other as they always had about the family. The Baratheons might be a little more grounded but they were still the family that ruled them and so there was gossip among the staff about the family.

The staff did not like Lady Selyse. The Head Cook said she was a poor excuse for a lady, with no wits and no beauty in her. Most felt that she paled in comparison to the last two ladies of Dragonstone, Queen Rhaella, and Princess Elia and that it would be unfair to compare her to them. "How could you compare a milking goat to a unicorn?" They would say laughing to each other as they cleaned or served. Lord Stannis was never home, working tirelessly for his brother. Though the staff might joke why would he come home if Selyse was what he had to come home to. They thought him a grim man but fair and steady.

All of the staff loved their only child, Lady Shireen. She had only turned two years when the greyscale afflicted her. The staff immediately talked about why such a sweet child would be struck down. Some said it was because of the heat from the summer and the fell mist that hung over Dragonstone. Some said it was all the foreign traders, perhaps from the Summer Islands. Some said it was a Dornish plot to hurt the child in retaliation for the murder of Princess Elia and her children. Lady Shireen’s nurse said Lady Selyse was unnatural and cold and did not hold Shireen enough or love her as a mother should. This was the cause of the disease. 

In hushed whispers, some even dared to say this was the Seven's wrath for rebelling against the rightful anointed Kings, the Targaryens. 

As soon as the child was locked away in a room, emptied of all except a bed, strange things began to happen. The first thing was as soon as the girl was locked in a room, Dragonstone saw the first summer snows it had had in a generation. The temperatures dropped and the mist brought icy rain and hail. It was not entirely uncommon to have brief periods of winter weather in summer. But the weather changed so drastically and so suddenly, even Maester Cressen commented on. It was uncommon for Dragonstone so far south to see such weather. On the second day of Shireen’s quarantine, it snowed two inches. 

They would call it the false winter. Stranger still, it only seemed to effect Dragonstone.

Another thing happened, not so strange, given the age of the child. Lady Shireen Baratheon cried and cried, heartrending cries. Even though she was in a part of the keep rarely used, the acoustics of Dragonstone were unusual and the magic used to make it unknown, the baby’s cries could be heard throughout the keep. They were relentless. At first, the staff made jokes about her stubbornness and her spirit, to say she was her father’s daughter or to say with as much spirit as she had she would surely recover. 

However, the constant crying became unsettling to the staff. She cried continually. They thought the child must grow hoarse eventually. But it did not seem to happen. For three days, Lady Shireen cried and screamed continually, whether it was the height of the day or the hour of the wolf. All that could be heard was her cries, the cries of a child too young to understand why it must be locked alone in a room with no company. 

What was strange was on the morning of the third day, the child stopped crying. At first, the staff thought she had grown mute from all the screaming. However, Bess, a scullery maid, who was a tough woman, said the child had given up hope that someone would come and now, she would not cry. “Finally we will have peace,” Bess had said. Shireen’s nurse cried saying she was certain that the girl had died from loneliness and heartbreak.

Maester Cressen visited the child three times a day and this confirmed the child was still well and among the living.

But on the fifth day, Coral, the girl who emptied the chamber pots, said she heard a woman’s voice singing and the girl’s voice singing along with her. She said she heard laughter but the door was locked and only Maester Cressen had the key. The voice was not Lady Selyse...

On the sixth day, things got even stranger.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously, ghosts in this story are a bit more substantial when they want to be.. Willing suspension of disbelief.

She had heard the crying. It had been a long time since she had heard such heartbreaking crying. It had woken her from whatever slumber she could have. At first, it had been an annoyance and Rhaenyra thought she would go curdle the milk in the larder or break some dishes to show how upset it had made her. She was certain one of the maids or staff had left their child unattended because they were lazy or cruel. Rhaenyra did not like to be disturbed especially over neglect or laziness.

As she drifted through the hallways of the East Tower, she heard the cries grow louder and louder. The child’s cries did not sound like they were being punished. Instead, they sounded like pain and fear. Rhaenyra increased her speed, growing worried that someone might be hurting the helpless thing.

 

Rhaenyra heard the cries of a child lost. Perhaps, a child had gotten caught or trapped and was seeking help. It was not the first time she had come for a crying child. Once generations ago, a little girl with silver and gold hair had gotten trapped on a ledge after she attempted to climb out of her room. Rhaenyra had appeared to the child and guided her to safety. The child had been a talkative creature, too young to understand that the helpful stranger was an apparition. Through the girl's chatter, Rhaenyra had realized the girl was her youngest granddaughter. Her son had named her, Elaena. Rhaenyra had kissed her on the forehead and hugged her. When the child had said, “My Lady, who should I tell my father, the King, to thank that you rescued me?”

She had said, “Tell your father that your Grandmother Rhaenyra saved you.” 

It had made her laugh to think what her moody son would think to hear his daughter. Another time, more recently, she had come when she heard a newborn infant was crying. It had been a terribly stormy night. The mother had died and the stupid nurses had left the helpless thing in the dead woman’s arms. Rhaenyra had cradled the child and comforted it. It had been a little girl, beautiful and so tiny. Rhaenyra had contemplated spiriting the girl away to keep her company. She had always wanted a daughter and this girl’s mother was dead. But then Rhaenyra remembered that living babies needed food, milk, heat, and a hundred other things that she might forget since she no longer needed any of them. Gently, she had kissed the tiny thing and placed her back in the crib with blessings and sweet words. 

When she came to the nursery, Rhaenyra saw the lock on the door with the metal chains. She knew the child that was crying was behind that door. She laughed to herself, thinking that a metal chain and lock could not keep her out. The living were stupid and small minded.

Pushing herself through the heavy door that had been painted with baby dragons, Rhaenyra found herself in the nursery. Someone had come and taken all the cradles, rugs, toys, and other furniture out of the room. The only thing in this room was a small child’s bed against a wall near the window. 

Rhaenyra wondered what the staff was playing at and who had taken all the things. Briefly, she remembered when her own sons were in this room. There had been five beds and cribs. How many days had she spent here with them? Of course, by the time Viserys had come, Jace had demanded he was too old for the nursery. Sometimes, when she had been recently dead, she would come to the nursery to linger and remember the warm small hands of her boys and their sweet sticky kisses against her cheek.

Looking around, she saw the source of the crying. In the small bed was a little girl, only a toddler. The girl was dressed in a shift with only one blanket to keep her warm. The girl’s face was red with crying and her eyes were squeezed shut. Tears and snot covered the little girl’s face. Her braids that must have been tidy had come free and were sloppy and snarled. Rhaenyra wondered who would leave a daughter so young, alone and locked in a room. She was a small sweet thing, crying for her mother, no older than two or three. The girl had dark hair and for a second it reminded her of Ser Criston Cole. How she had once loved the color of his dark hair against her pale skin. Without thinking, she gathered the child in her arms, trying to soothe her with rocking.

The girl quieted looking up at the strange woman. Young children did not have as many questions as older children and adults. All the girl saw was a kind woman who had come to calm her. The child smiled and started to suck her thumb, as Rhaenyra rocked her near her breast. 

Unlike most Targaryens, Rhaenyra did not have the same selective taste for silver hair and purple eyes. She did not care. Three of her sons had brown hair and brown eyes and they had been just as handsome to her as her other boys. The little girl opened her eyes and they were the brightest blue she had ever seen. Rhaenyra smiled and wiped the girl’s face with a handkerchief she had found.

“Shh.. baby... Shh,” Rhaenyra said, as she gathered the girl in her arms. Why had they left her here with nothing? She needed toys and blankets and dresses. Rhaenyra would bring some toys and another blanket or two. The child looked thin, maybe she needed some fruit and cheese from the pantry. Or maybe the poor thing needed some cakes and sweets.

It was then that Rhaenyra had seen the dark grey spot on the tiny girl’s cheek. Even though she had not been mortal for many years, the instinct to be afraid filled her. Rhaenyra reminded herself she would not get sick or ill anymore and there was no reason to fear. 

Instead, Rhaenyra hugged the child tighter, kissing her forehead. No one would come for the child. Perhaps, Rhaenyra had found a daughter after all this time.


	3. Chapter 3

At first, the servants of Dragonstone notice the little things that disappeared; a tray of sticky buns, a flagon of cider, a roasted duck, baked apples with raisins and nuts. Before Lady Shireen was taken ill, it was common knowledge with the cooks and servants at Dragonstone that sweets might disappear from the kitchen. The Head Baker had always known to make extra trays of sweets in case one might disappear. However, food has been disappearing at an alarming rate.

Normally, they might go to the steward, but he had left with Lord Stannis to go to the mainland and see if a cure could be found to heal Lady Shireen. Lady Selyse had been inconsolable since Shireen had taken ill and would not leave her bed. 

So, it was to Maester Cressen the servants would go with their concerns. Maester Cressen was a thoughtful and considerate man. However, quickly, Maester Cressen learned where to look when things went missing. All he needed to do was go to Lady Shireen’s room. As soon as he opened the door, he would smell the missing items and they would be on the table laid out. Maester Cressen had not told the servants, but he had also found two more blankets, a dress, a pair of warm woolen socks, and a soft toy.

Maester Cressen was astonished at how many things had been found in Shireen’s room. Of course, all the items to be burned and the ashes buried. But since the girl was quarantined, Maester Cressen allowed her the few things. 

The food was another matter. Shireen was a young girl and did not need all the food and it would be wasted. Cressen was eager to find a reason to who was bringing all these supplies to Shireen. 

First, he called the serving girls and boys to questions them harshly. The question he has each of them in his sternest voice was who had a key to the Lady Shireen’s rooms and who had done it? How had they done it? After several hours of questioning, Cressen had got nowhere. No one had seen anything and no one admitted anything. He was not a man who lost his patience easily, but he threatened to beat them if they continued to lie. 

He had hoped his threats would bring truth but all it brought were tears. Whoever was continuing to go in Lady Shireen’s rooms were risking catching greyscale. Even worse, if he could not find the culprit, they might infect the whole castle. 

When the tears of the children subsided and still no one admitted to it, he had the entire quarters of all the household staff searched for a key or any evidence of the helper, but neither could be found. Maester Cressen was certain it was a child. An adult would know the risk was too great, even if they loved the small girl. Only a child could be so reckless. 

Maester Cressen examined each of the children for any signs of greyscale closely and had the housekeepers scrub them with hot soapy water. 

Determined to solve this mystery, Cressen went to Shireen’s quarters. He sat next to her in his leather suit and gloves. Speaking gently, he asked her, “Shireen, who brings you all these sweets and blankers? Who brought you your doll?”

Without wavering, Shireen smiled and said, ”Mama.”

Lady Shireen had never called Lady Selyse Mama, only ever Mother. Several times, he heard her call her my Lady. Lady Selyse was not a warm person. 

Gently, Cressen had asked her, “What does your Mama look like?”

Shireen had told him of a beautiful, soft woman with silver hair and pretty eyes who would sing and play with her. Shireen said she was the most beautiful woman and she had the prettiest dresses with embroidery and jewels on them. “She is very worried about me. She says I am too thin and too cold. Mama brought me the blankets and sweets.”

Cressen rubbed his forehead. It had been a long day and he had not been sleeping well. He could feel his frustration rising. Though the girl was not given to storytelling like some children, this seemed too far-fetched. Her description of the woman was vague but it clearly was a high-born lady. There were no ladies that matched her description in the keep. Even if they were, they would not go unnoticed from the kitchen to this wing of the castle. “Please do not lie to me, Lady Shireen. It is better that you tell me the truth.”

“I am not Maester,” she said, “Mama says she found you something to help make me well. She says you are not stupid like most Maesters. She says with a little help you will get me well. She watches you. Mama says when I am well she will bring me more toys, pretty dresses like hers, and all the sweets I can eat. She says we will spend all our days together. She has waited for me for a long time. “

 

Cressen was not a man who was easily scared but he felt chills on his arm. He wondered on this as he walked to his chambers What magic was this? Was she lying or was it a more supernatural reason? He let himself think on it. Would it be Good Queen Alysanne’s ghost? Some people had said they had seen Queen Visenya’s ghost but he did not think Visenya would play nursemaid to a sick toddler. Over his years here, he had heard people speak of seeing the spirits of Princess Daenerys and her half- brother, Daemon Blackfyre, playing on the shore. Perhaps, Queen Alyssa had come to help the girl. Cressen knew he was very tired to believe a spirit was stealing food and blankets for the child. There was another Queen who lived on Dragonstone who longed for a daughter. Could it be Rhaenyra? 

Tomorrow, he would make a list of all the servants who had silver hair. There were a great many of them who still served Dragonstone. Right now, he needed to see if there was anything that could stop the spreading and if he could save Shireen. He had scoured the library and even started to go through some of the papers of other maesters that had been stored in boxes to prevent Bealor from burning them generations ago. He needed to save this sad little girl who he loved. 

As he unlocked the door to his rooms, Cressen thought about lying down and sleeping for an hour. However, the words Shireen had said that she watches you had unnerved him. Looking at the fireplace, he added another log on the fire and lit several candles. Perhaps, he could read for a little while. As he started to look on his desk, covered in papers, Cressen noticed something on his desk, something he had not left there. It looked like a very old book. He wondered how and why someone had come into his room and left this. Perhaps, it was the housekeeper.

Looking closer, it was a very old journal or diary tied with string to keep the papers in. On the front was a faded golden seven-pointed star. Carefully, Cressen untied it but the strain seemed too much for the old ribbon and it fell apart when he pulled the strings. Opening the cover, he felt the spine crack and he reminded himself to be more gentle. This journal had to be hundreds of years old. 

On the cover page in steady writing, he read the words, “The Journal of Maegelle Targaryen on the Care and Comfort of Greyscale Victims.” Briefly scanning the pages, he saw techniques and skills he had never read before. Suddenly, he wasn’t tired.

Cressen looked up and around. Normally, he was not a superstitious man. However, he was very very tired and very grateful. He spoke quietly to the open room, “Thank you, your Grace. Thank you.”


End file.
